


24/03/16

by BleedingBishop



Series: Lost And Found Mystrade Drabbles [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arson, Emotional Manipulation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingBishop/pseuds/BleedingBishop
Summary: Reupload of my writings in the LostandFoundMystrade's drabble collection.Originally posted 24/03/16





	24/03/16

“Good afternoon, Mr Holmes.”

King Gregory Emile Lestrade, Warrior of the Battle of Calgardar and Monarch of the Empire, stepped down from his raised throne and descended the carpeted steps to stand by the man passing by below.

“Good afternoon, your majesty.” The man replied courteously, bowing at the waist to his superior.

“I hear the negotiations for the Northern farmlands were completed without a hitch.” The king said after a moment of silence between them.

“Yes, Sire, your diplomatic relation advisors are well chosen, they do your name a great service.” Gosh, so polite, that would never do.

“Of course, them being directly under you for the course of their training, as well as answering to your directive would have nothing to do with their abilities, would it?” He whispered into his ear, the pale skin flushing.

“Sire, I am Master of the Household; I have no effect on treaties, agreements and politics that are enacted to protect this kingdom.” As if too busy himself from Lestrade’s raised eyebrow, Holmes rearranged the wad of parchment in his arms, so as not to send the pile falling to the floor.

“Of course, Mr Holmes. You would then be free to join me as my companion for the Harvest celebrations this year?”

The smile Holmes received was as endearing as it was sly, and he widened his eyes in surprise as the request registered. He coughed politely.

“As honoured as I am to be asked, Sire, and I beg of you that you believe that I am, the Harvest Festival is being held here in your main estate, and I feel it would be remiss of me to abandon my duties for the household will be in need of direction and guidance.”

“Hm…” The king’s eyes narrowed at Holmes, as if he would be able to decipher if he were lying with enough looking. Not that he would be able to - while it was… unsettling, to have a member of his court unreadable, and someone so high up in background activities, it was one of the many things that Lestrade found worthy of praise to the Housemaster.

“Very well.”

“Thank you, Sire. I must beg of you my leave, there is much to prepare.”

“Granted.”

Holmes bowed once more and left the courtroom towards the east wing.

‘Holmes.’ Greg though simply, before motioning for the Captain of the Royal guards to be sent for.

“Sire, you sent for me?” Captain Bill Murray saluted, before standing to attention at the foot of the throne room stairs.

“Yes. Holmes. Update.”

“Sire. Holmes has not differed from his usual routine, awakening at 5, housemaster duties until 10 in the evening. He will then send the maids to dinner and leave for an evening constitutional in the town before returning to his rooms at a time before 1.”

“So vague a time for his return?” King Lestrade murmured, leaning back in his seat.

“Sire, If I may be so bold, the Housemaster is a dedicated beast to his house. He would not endanger your good grace and his subordinates with scandal.” The Captain waited for the reaction from his king and was inwardly relieved that it was not negative.

“Send one of your men to find out where he goes. Do not let him be seen by the Housemaster.”

“Sire.” And with a vague dismissive hand wave, the Captain was dismissed.

‘Where are you going so late, Dearheart?’

___________________________________________________________________________

A week later, Captain Murray returns.

“He is visiting a lover, Sire. Anthea Bell. Lives in the horticultural homes to the south-west of town. The Housemaster takes care of her evening meal and cleaning, then assisting her to her bed before returning back to his rooms here.”

“Dismissed.” The monarch sat in silence as the Captain saluted and left, before standing up and walking to his office.

A letter written and sent, and James Moriarty was standing in his presence.

“Your majesty.”

“Anthea Bell. Immediately.”

“Certainly.”

___________________________________________________________________________

“Housemaster?”

Mycroft looked up to see His king, astride his horse and armour. He had taken a moment to breathe again; hadn’t meant to be away from his work for so long.

“Your majesty. Forgive me, I had no idea you had wanted to journey past the north wing today.” Mycroft wiped the moisture from his eye and bowed deep.

“Is all well, Housemaster?”

“Of course sire, all preparations for the Harvest Celebrations are on time and I can promise a wonderful event.”

“I meant with yourself, Housemaster.” His king’s voice was pitched low, so as to keep it from being overheard, and a warm tone of worry caused Mycroft to look up into the monarch’s eyes.

“… I would be lying if I was to say that I am altogether well,” He said quietly. A rattle as King Lestrade dismounted his horse echoed in the empty yard, and a frown on his face had Mycroft standing taller “, but this shall not interfere with my duties.”

“No, I wouldn’t be so foolish to assume it would,” Lestrade said and stood nearer him than he had ever previously.

“Is there anything to be done?”

“No, Sire. If there were I would not bother you with my trifles.”

“You are a valued member of my court, Mr Holmes. A kingdom cannot be run without support, and I find you to be of the closest support to me. Any situation can be fixed, as I am sure I was once told.” Lestrade smiled, a small thing that easy summoned a mimicry, but not this time.

“Unfortunately not in this instance. Two nights ago I was to find my companions home destroyed, a bakery next door having caught ablaze and trapping her within. The last of her line.”

“May she rest in peace.” Lestrade bowed his head.

“Thank you, Sire. She was dear to me. A friend that I have had from childhood, her husband a cousin of mine. The drink got him in the end and I’ve helped ever since. She was more a sister than my own kin,” Mycroft wiped his eyes once more “, Forgive me, Sire, I did not mean to distract you,” Mycroft smiled softly “,I hope you will not think me too familiar when I say I doubt I would have felt so free to confess in church than I would to you.”

“I am honoured by your trust. You are taking a good distraction from your mourning, I trust?”

“I am first and foremost a Housemaster, Sire, there is always something to be done. A distraction is only available when I allow it.”

“Would a distraction as my partner to the Harvest celebrations be viable?” Lestrade touched Mycroft’s small finger, a wisp so easily passed off accident, and so it was an accident. Mycroft looked once more into his king’s eyes.

“I, I dare say I would do you a disservice as your partner for the evening, Sire. And with so much going on in the-”

“Please. A distraction from your grief as a thank you for my bearing your confession”

“Oh. Yes, of course, Sire. I would be honoured.” Mycroft bowed, ears aglow in polite embarrassment at his perceived impertinence.

“I thank you, Mycroft,” Lestrade brushed his hand again once more, before stepping back and mounting his horse once more “, I shall send word to the tailor for your fitting.”

“Thank you, sire, that is more than generous.”

“Good Evening, Mycroft.”

“Sire.” Lestrade trotted off as Mycroft returned back indoors, surprise and worry making way for the rapid planning and schedule rearranging that the Housemaster was known for.

There was a lot to do now that he had accepted.

___________________________________________________________________________

‘Dearheart, we are simply fated.’ Lestrade thought, passing his mount back to a stable hand and held his arms aloft as his armour was removed.

‘Dearheart, we will look one of a pair’ Lestrade thought, Having taken the initiative to watch his Housemaster being measured for an evening coat to be worn for the celebrations.

‘Dearheart, we shall belong to no other’ Lestrade thought, as he saw the dining hall filled with food and merriment, the successful harvest shared with all in the kingdom.

‘Dearheart, you are mine.’ Lestrade thought, feeding his partner a morsel, wide-eyed surprise fitting him so well, such intelligence but so pure against matters of flesh and blood.

‘Mine and mine alone.’

**Author's Note:**

> After a long discussion, I and Jack agreed to let me post my writing without argument, so now they're on Ao3 for posterity :)


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